


U-Pick

by vipjuly



Series: U-Pick [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Cheering Up, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly
Summary: In the day to day, sometimes one just needs a change in perspective.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: U-Pick [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721374
Comments: 75
Kudos: 337





	U-Pick

**Author's Note:**

> a short, poignant drabble,  
> but a tall metaphor.

“Terrible weather today,” the lady at the post office says as she hands Castiel a book of stamps.

He knows the weather is terrible. He’s got the soaked trench coat and umbrella to show for it. He sends her a flat smile, opens his satchel to put his stamps where they’ll stay dry, then exits the post office while opening his umbrella to hold it over his head. 

“Terrible weather today,” the man at the produce stand says as he takes cash from Castiel. His stand is covered with an awning, though the wet spray of the rain gets carried in on the wind.

He knows the weather is terrible. His socks are wet through his boots, the hem of his jeans looking close to tearing with how damp they are coupled with his heel occasionally stepping on the back of them. He finishes placing apples and oranges in his reusable netted produce bags, makes room in his satchel to put them inside, then leaves the stand without acknowledging the man further. He’s not in the mood. 

“Terrible weather today,” the lady says at the bank as she hands Castiel a receipt for his deposit.

He knows the weather is terrible. The bank is the warmest place he’s been today on his errands. He shook out his umbrella as best as possible, but it’s still dripping on their pretty parquet tile. He nods at the woman, then leaves without another word. Most of the people he interacts with on a near daily basis understand his personality, so he’s stopped caring about how he comes off. 

“Terrible weather today,” the bus driver says as Castiel scans his pass. 

He knows the weather is terrible. He makes his way to a seat, carefully putting his items down before settling himself down. It’s that rare, odd time of day that the bus is relatively empty. This bus has a route that leads directly to his suburban cottage, therefore it usually isn’t _too_ crowded, since it heads out of the city. He supposes that the weather is forcing a lot of people to stay in. The city is mostly accessible by foot. He doesn’t blame sane people for staying home. 

The only reason he went out is because he had a day off from working at home. The office is currently under renovations, most of the workers displaced to tune into their spreadsheets from home and attend conference meetings via Zoom. Working ten, twelve hours a day from home is different than at the office; it’s easy to go slightly off-course and run his errands before even coming home when he’s downtown anyway. But since he’s home all the time, now, far outside of the convenient areas, he neglected to do any sort of shopping before his work week started and has been paying the price. Thankfully grocery stores deliver; he’d filled his cart with everything he needed, then passed it off to a capable clerk who would get it set up to be delivered within a few hours. 

The walk home from the bus stop, all three blocks of it, is miserable. There’s no wind, but the rain is chilly, icy for March, working in typical Spring fashion by coming in waves. Heavy bursts of rain, followed by a light drizzle, with hail and everything else in between. As he approaches his cottage he sees his neighbor, Dean, out and about in the yard, looking entirely unbothered by the strange weather. 

Dean moved in six months ago. Castiel doesn’t know much about him, other than he uses the shop space in his backyard to craft handmade furniture and seems to run a business out of his home. Since he moved in during the winter, Castiel has only seen him making the trek to and from his shop, along with helping people load completed furniture into a moving truck before it gets hauled away.

He always has a friendly smile and a wave for Castiel. 

Today is no different. As Castiel approaches his front yard, which shares a small, white picket fence with Dean’s, he gets a friendly smile and a wave. Castiel tightens his grip on his umbrella when the rain intensifies. 

“Heya, Cas!” Dean yells in greeting. They’ve only talked a handful of times. Castiel is always surprised at how genuinely jovial the man is. “Great weather, huh?” 

Castiel blinks in surprise. 

Dean returns to kneeling on what looks like a gardening cushion, some tools and supplies scattered around him. He’s in the process of crafting tomato plant stands, if Castiel’s correct. He very gently lifts each plant to test its height, then drives some stakes into the soaked soil, then starts wrapping thickly corded, but thin, rope around the stakes, gently helping the tomato plants to stand up properly.

“Lotta people don’t like the rain,” Dean continues on. Castiel didn’t realize he’d walked closer, entranced by watching Dean’s bare, muddy hands work. “But without the rain we can’t have a Spring and Summer, y’know?” 

Still saying nothing, Castiel mulls over Dean’s perspective and words. Dean tilts his head back to send Castiel a bright smile, his hair darkened and flattened against his head from the rain, green eyes bright against the backdrop of his lawn. Castiel meets his gaze, holding it as his heart thunders louder than the rain hitting his umbrella, _pitter patter_ , then finally offers a small, warm smile. 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

The next day as Castiel logs into Zoom for a meeting, the first thing he hears from Balthazar is, “Terrible weather today.” 

Glancing out the window, Castiel sees Dean erecting a sign in the freshly-milled vegetable garden in his front yard, rain soaking him through and through but doing nothing to dampen the sweet, satisfied smile on his features. 

**U-PICK  
PRICE: SMILES**

Feeling something bloom inside his chest, Castiel shrugs. “A little change of perspective would have you thinking otherwise.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you're struggling, please reach out to someone.  
> i love you all.  
> please take care of your body _and_ brains.  
> love, july


End file.
